InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ The Edge of Resistance ❯ The Path ( Chapter 28 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

The Edge of Resistance
Book Two: The Dissidents

"I like them to talk nonsense. That's man's one privilege over all creation. Through error you come to the truth! I am a man because I err! You never reach any truth without making fourteen mistakes and very likely a hundred and fourteen." – Fyodor Dostoevsky

“The Beloved has come.”

Kagome looked up, surprised not just by the words, but by the voice. It sounded like Kikyou, but something about it was off—jarring, like a wrong word or note in a song you know by heart. The priestess appeared the same, and yet not. A hazy, fractured light surrounded her, and Kagome squinted, unable to make out the true edges of her. Even the room, which resembled the kitchen of the Hyouden, glimmered as if it were underwater. Kagome’s first thought was that something was wrong with her. Perhaps she was lightheaded, and about to faint.

But no, she felt fine.

“Ki…Kikyou?”

Kikyou’s shape moved through the air like a light passing through amber oil. She turned her head to look at someone else. It was Sesshoumaru. His expression was placid, as usual, but the grip of steel sternness was not there, and he appeared oddly soft and gentle. The effect was unsettling.

“To inquire what means Kikyou?” Kikyou asked him.

He turned to her slowly. “To believe that the Beloved refers to one of the Twelve. To think it may be the Wanderer.”

Kagome’s blood ran cold and she swallowed hard.

“You’re not them,” she whispered. “You’re something else.”

They looked at her.

“To know that you would come,” a new voice, shockingly loud, came from behind her. “To have foreseen it.”

Kagome spun around and found herself facing Inuyasha across a tiny, electrified space. One look into his flat, serene expression convinced her in an instant that it was not really him, but her heart soaked in tears anyway.

“What do you want?”

“You are the Beloved,” he answered, as if that explained everything.

“How do I get back?” she asked.

“Back?” Kouga walked up to her and peered into her eyes, studying her.

“Yes,” she stammered, pulling her eyes away. “To where I was before.”

“Before?” Sango, dressed in her battle-ready gear, turned to Sesshoumaru.

“To remind you that the Beloved is still of Earth,” he explained. “Her time is linear.”

“Ah,” Sango responded, her tone sad.

“To think that she is limited,” Miroku stood next to her.

“To know that she is the Beloved,” Kouga insisted.

“To see that you have come with questions,” Kagome saw the wind sorceress, Kagura, standing next to Sango. “To be willing to hear them, while you are here.”

Kagome’s heart pounded.

“Are you…am I in the presence of gods?” she whispered.

The group of them looked at each other, for some time. Kagome got the impression that they were speaking, but in some fashion she could not hear or understand.

“That word is sufficient enough,” the young Shippou told her.

“What do you want of me?” she asked again.

Kikyou’s brow furrowed in mild perplexity. “You are the Beloved.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

Kikyou looked to Sesshoumaru. He turned to Kagome.

“It means what you are, and you are what it means.”

Kagome tried not to betray her frustration. This is what I get, she thought, for wanting to talk to gods.

Then a sudden thought occurred to her.

“Can I not be the Beloved?” she asked.

They looked around at each other again.

“To not understand,” Shippou admitted.

“Could I…abdicate…relinquish…stop being the Beloved. Couldn’t someone else do it?”

“Someone else?” Shippou turned to Kagura, frowning.

“To not understand,” the demoness repeated.

“To see that the Beloved does not wish to be the Beloved,” Sesshoumaru told them.

They all looked at him, then back at her. Kagome squirmed.

“Ah,” Sango said after a moment, and once again she was sad.

Kikyou walked around the kitchen fire and stood in front of Kagome.

“To want is irrelevant,” she said. “You are the Beloved. You are the Everlasting Light. You are the Commander. You are the Visitor. You are of Earth. You are of Us.”

Kagome would never be able to explain why, but for a moment a deep sadness, an unfathomable ocean of loss and regret swelled within her.

What is it? What am I feeling?

She saw a fleeting image of a girl running through a spring forest. Her white hair flew out behind her and her bare feet flashed in the dappled sunlight.

“Why?” she asked. “What right have you to decide so many destinies? To plan it all out, like a director of a play?”

“Play?” Kagura repeated.

“What is ‘right’?” Shippou demanded.

“Is it this?” Sesshoumaru asked.

The room changed without warning. The kitchen was gone. The oppressive darkness seemed total until Kagome’s eyes adjusted to the faint light. Only the pseudo-Shippou stood with her in the gloom, looking at her with expectation. Wet walls of stone surrounded them on all sides, arching up high above their heads. They were in a cave. Bones littered the floor of the cave—decaying limbs and rib cages, and skulls with clumps of hair still matted to them. The reek of dried blood and rotting flesh hit her at the same moment.

“What is this?” she cried, turning her back on it. “Why have you done this?”

“Done?” Shippou asked. “To have done nothing. To show you the truth.”

The truth revealed itself to Kagome as though she were reading it on a page, line by the line, words lifting up to her like fog from a dark lake. The bodies were all women, young women. This is where the Tsuchigumo had been bred and born, the spider-like demons that Tamotsu had told her about. He had also told her the rumor of women taken by spider demons before the Rains. She remembered Rin mentioning their empty lair.

She grit her teeth, and tried to breathe through her nose to keep from vomiting.

“The Tsuchigumo,” she mumbled. “They’re half-demons, aren’t they?”

No one answered, but they did not need to.

“Why are you showing me this?” Kagome demanded, her face streaming. “Do you hate me that much?”

“To show you the truth,” Shippou insisted. “To guess that it is the same as ‘right’.”

“Well it isn’t!” she shouted at him.

They returned to the kitchen. By this time, Kagome wept openly.

Sesshoumaru stood in front of her now, pressing his slender fingers against his chest.

“To not be of this body,” he said. “To not be of Earth. To not exist in your linear time. To see all time. To know that your enemy does this. To know that he does other things, things you may stop, in your time. To know that only you can be the Beloved.”

Still sobbing, Kagome could barely raise her head and nod.

“To return her to her own time and place?” Kikyou suggested.

“To agree,” Sesshoumaru said.

“Wait!” Kagome cried. “What about Kikyou?”

“Kikyou again?” Kikyou wondered.

“She is like me,” Kagome explained. “She is a priestess. We shared a soul.”

“To know for certain now that the Beloved refers to the Wanderer,” Sesshoumaru said.

The others nodded.

“The Wanderer?” Kagome asked.

“The Reborn.”

“Yes, that’s her!” Kagome exclaimed.

“What of her?”

“Did you give her life back to her? Why? Is it permanent?”

Kouga approached her, standing very close, his blue eyes clear as water.

“To know that you know that the Wanderer is not the Beloved, and the Beloved is not the Wanderer.”

Kagome sighed and wiped her wet cheeks.

“I guess that’s your way of telling me it’s none of my concern.”

“As you say, Beloved,” he replied. “But to suggest that she is restored as one of Earth. Nothing of Earth is permanent.”

“I think I have the right to ask something of you.”

“To not disagree. To tell you it is up to us to grant it.”

“Kikyou…ah, the Wanderer, deserves some kind of answer. She should talk to you, as I have.”

“You judge this to be right?” Kouga asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

“So be it,” Sesshoumaru said. “Touch her hand as soon as you see her.”

“Will I see you again?”

“You are the Beloved,” Kouga shrugged.

Kagome was still standing in the kitchen, but the glimmer cast was gone. By contrast the air seemed hard and apathetic now.

“Oh thank heavens!” Kikyou cried, getting to her feet. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“Are you really Kikyou?” Kagome asked her.

“What? What do you mean? Of course I am.” She looked closer at Kagome’s face. “Are you hurt? Why have you been crying?”

“It will be alright,” Kagome said.

Without waiting for a response, she took Kikyou’s hand. In the next instant, she was gone.

Kagome took a deep breath and sighed.

“How are you here?” she addressed the woman sitting before the fire.

“I am the path,” Midoriko answered. “Would you like some tea?”

***

A flat, hollow voice whispered in the dark room.

“The General has come.”

“Ah,” another voice answered, placid, though a little sad. “The Son of Ages.”

“Who are you? How have you come to my house?” Sesshoumaru demanded.

The fire in the center of the room grew up again, and he saw that, though it looked like the Hyouden’s kitchen, it was not. An orange haze diffused the air, as though candles danced about the room like fireflies he could not catch in his sight. He saw that it was Rin and Jaken who had spoken. Jaken sat on the bench in the center of the back wall, with his staff planted on the floor and Rin standing beside him, looking for all the world like a seated emperor. They looked at him with an unwavering, clear vision, and he knew that they were mirages.

“Who are you?” he repeated.

“We are Us,” they replied.

“You are of Earth,” Kagome stood beside him.

“What do you want of me?” he asked.

“You are the General,” Inuyasha said from behind him. “The General is you.”

Sesshoumaru turned and saw the yellow eyes gazing at him, intent and yet distant. He turned his back on him.

“I have had enough of tricks and illusions,” he said.

“Illusions?” Shinme turned to Jaken.

“To see that the General means that we are false,” Jaken answered.

“False?” Shinme stared at Sesshoumaru. “But we are Us.”

“To see that the General does not know what that means,” Kikyou was walking around him, looking into his eyes. “To know that he is limited.”

“Limited?” Sesshoumaru scoffed. “You do not know me.”

“To know you?” Jaken repeated, dismayed. “To know that you are of Earth. To know that though you are of Us, you are not Us. To know of your birth, of your steps on the Earth, before there was an Earth.”

“To know that you are mortal,” Tamotsu told him.

“I am not mortal,” Sesshoumaru replied.

“Your linear existence has a beginning,” Kikyou insisted. “To understand, therefore, that it must have an end.”

“The General will end,” Tamotsu declared, and his fellows nodded.

“Are you attempting to threaten me?”

They looked at each other.

“It is confrontational,” Kagome commented to Tamotsu.

“Antagonistic,” Tamotsu agreed.

“To wonder if it can be trusted?” Rin asked.

Tamotsu shrugged. “He is the General. The General is him.”

“Why?” Sesshoumaru interrupted. “Why must it be me?”

They looked at him.

“To think that he is very much like the Beloved,” Kagura commented.

“To agree,” Kagome replied. “To see that the General does not wish to be the General.”

Kagura approached him. She looked the same as the last time he had seen her, months ago at the dawn of a doomed summer. She placed a hand on his shoulder, which lay there warm and heavy like heated metal.

“To wish is irrelevant,” she said to him. “You are the General. You are the Son of Ages. You are of Earth. Your linear existence is limited. You are the General because the General must be, and must be you.”

“I…I do not understand,” Sesshoumaru admitted.

“To not be necessary that you understand,” Kagura said to him. “To need only to know that you are the General.”

“What if I do not do as you wish?” he asked.

They looked around at each other again.

“It is challenging,” Kagome said.

“It is hostile,” Inuyasha said.

“To wish is irrelevant,” Kagura told him again. “You are the General. The General is You. No one else can be the General. You can be no one but the General. It is…”

She hesitated, and looked to her fellows.

“Necessary?” Kagome suggested.

“Inevitable,” Rin supplied.

“Yes,” Jaken agreed. “Inevitable.”

“Who are you to make decisions about my destiny?”

“We are—

“We are Us,” Sesshoumaru injected. “Yes, you said that before.”

“Before,” Rin repeated.

“We are not you,” Jaken said. “And you are not us, yet you are of us. You are the General. Still, to think it correct to tell you that we are not the deciders.”

“What?” Sesshoumaru looked up at them. “Then who is?”

“To be unable to communicate it to the General.”

“Then what do you do?”

“Do?”

“What is your purpose?”

They looked at each other for a long while, so long that he began to suspect that they had forgotten about him. Then, without noticing any change or movement, he was no longer looking at the kitchen, but he found himself standing in the garden behind the Hyouden. A few feet away, he recognized himself. For a disturbing moment, his mind struggled against that discordant image, but then he understood that he was looking at a younger version of himself. The young Sesshoumaru was listening to his father explain something about unarmed combat. His father’s expression was intent, and he looked younger than Sesshoumaru ever remembered him, but he made no sign that he saw the intruders. Touran, his old enemy of the panther demon tribe, stood beside him in the snow, her ocean of hair lifting lightly in the wind and her armor gleaming white under the winter sun.

“His linear existence was terminated,” she said in a flat tone.

“Yes,” Sesshoumaru answered.

“This happened before,” she said.

“Before what?”

“Before what you call ‘now’.”

Sesshoumaru began to piece together a picture in his mind of the situation.

“Your existence is not linear,” he said, somewhat unconsciously mimicking their speech.

“The General is wise,” Touran said.

“But how does that tell me of your purpose?”

The walls of the world moved away again. He found that he was standing over his own body. He could tell that it was closer in time to his own. Was this his own death? If these…beings…had no concept of time, could they show him the future?

No, it was not the future. It was still the past.

“This happened after, but still before now,” Touran said.

“That is correct.”

The two of them looked down on the unconscious figure.

“To see that your path has been…adversarial.”

“You could say that,” he murmured.

The past Sesshoumaru was almost comatose. What remained of his left arm bled like a scarlet river.

“To think your linear existence is limiting. To realize that you can only learn from things that qualify as ‘before’.

“We cannot see what is to come, in most cases. You are correct.”

“To conceive that such a species can survive is almost impossible.”

“Species?”

Touran hesitated and her brow furrowed.

“The children of Earth, like you and the Beloved.”

“She and I are not the same kind.”

“To seem the same to us.”

Sesshoumaru frowned.

“You have still not answered my question,” he said. “What is your purpose?”

“To inquire, what do you do here?” she asked, pointing to his body.

After a moment, he answered.

“I heal.”

They moved again. They were walking in the woods and it was the height of summer, under the midnight sky. Ahead of him, he saw the shadow of a tall figure and by now he knew enough to guess it was some other ‘him’. He followed it, with the pretend Touran walking beside him.

“I remember this place,” he murmured.

“To assume you would,” Touran answered. “To assume you must, in order to bring us here.”

Sesshoumaru watched as he came into the moonlight. The other Sesshoumaru looked up at the diamond stars.

“This also came before,” Touran said.

“Yes, before many things.”

Sesshoumaru saw the rhododendrons glowing in the moonlight, their tall branches swaying in the warm breeze. The bay trees perfumed the air.

“You yearn for this place?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “Somewhat. My life was much simpler here.”

“To know that that is not you,” she pointed at the other Sesshoumaru, disappearing now into the dark woods. “It cannot be you again. Your existence is linear.”

“Yes,” he answered simply, and looked away.

“What do you do here?”

“I am traveling,” he shrugged. “I traveled much, in my youth.”

“Why do you look at the stars?”

“They tell me where I am. They aid in deciding where to go.”

Sesshoumaru glanced at her, only to find they were in the kitchen again.

“You explained to the General?” Jaken asked.

The rest of them looked at him.

For the first time in what felt like centuries, Sesshoumaru perceived himself in real danger of looking like an idiot. In his mind he reassessed what had happened.

His father was teaching him. The stars were guiding him. In the glen he was healing…

No, not just healing. He was learning.

“You are guides,” he said. “Teachers.”

They looked around at each other, and Sesshoumaru thought a few of them even appeared relieved.

“To judge these terms to be sufficient,” Jaken said. He waved his hand. “To go with our protection.”

The light surrounding them faded into black, and he found he was looking at his own kitchen, which now appeared hard, stale, and ordinary. Kagome was sitting on the floor by the fire, deep in conversation with Midoriko. The dead priestess was sipping tea, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

“What is the meaning of this,” he demanded.

They both turned to him. Kagome looked startled, and when she saw his face she flinched, a typical reaction that, however slight, he never failed to notice. Midoriko, however, only smiled.

“Welcome back,” she said. “Tea?”

***

“The Wanderer has come.”

“As was agreed.”

Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha stood in front of her.

“What?” Kikyou mumbled, looking around.

She was still in the kitchen, but the room was different. It was overshadowed by a cloud, as though she were looking at it through thin rice paper.

“Who are you? Where is Kagome?”

“To believe that the Wanderer refers to the Beloved,” Inuyasha stated.

“Yes,” Sesshoumaru answered.

“Yes! The Beloved!” Kikyou exclaimed. “Where is she? Is she alright?”

“The Wanderer is concerned,” Inuyasha said.

“It is her duty,” someone else answered. “To think she performs it well.”

Kikyou was stunned to see her sister, Kaede; not the old woman, but the little girl she left behind all those years ago.

“To agree,” Inuyasha responded.

“The Beloved is in her proper place and time again,” Sesshoumaru told her.

“And…we are not?” Kikyou asked.

“We have no time as you know it,” Kaede responded.

“I see,” Kikyou murmured. “Why do you appear before me in forms that I know do not belong to you?”

“We draw ourselves from you,” Kohaku answered. “It is the only way we can…”

He glanced around at his fellows.

“Converse?” Rin suggested.

“Yes. Converse.”

“What do you want of me?” Kikyou asked.

“You are the Wanderer,” a new voice answered.

Kikyou took in a sharp breath. It was, or appeared to be, Tsubaki, standing in front of her, a young woman in her prime, her glossy hair falling past her knees and her green eyes wide and bright.

“You are the Reborn,” Tsubaki continued. “We ask no more.”

“Why am I here with you?”

Tsubaki put a hand on her shoulder. It was as warm as a stone taken from a fire.

“Its heart is sick,” she said in an even, matter-of-fact tone.

“To wonder if it is for us to repair?” Kohaku inquired of his fellows.

“To believe it may be necessary for the Purpose,” Rin replied.

“To agree,” Sesshoumaru said. “To move to aid it.”

“What?” Kikyou asked, startled. “Do you mean me? Aid me?”

The room changed without warning. They were no longer in the Hyouden’s kitchen. It took her a few moments to piece it together, to resurrect the sights and smells that had been entombed in the catacombs of her memory. She saw that she was standing in the home of her childhood. A girl of no more than eleven sat by the fire on a dirt floor, holding a tiny baby in her arms.

“Kaede,” she whispered.

“To not understand your linear time,” Tsubaki said to her. “But to think it seems…limiting.”

“Can they hear us?” Kikyou asked in alarm.

“To not be where, or when, they are.”

“I suppose it may be limiting,” Kikyou murmured, staring at the mirages. “I do not know, because I cannot understand time any other way.”

“Things occur before this, and after this?”

“Yes,” Kikyou answered.

“Why?”

Kikyou searched for a possible explanation.

“Things that occur before, may effect things that occur after.”

“So… it is a path?”

“Yes, you could say that.”

“To understand destiny,” the spirit seemed satisfied.

“I suppose you do.”

“But what is the purpose of this to you?”

“What do you mean? Kikyou asked.

“What does linear time mean to you?” Tsubaki pressed her. “To think you wish to know more about your destiny. To know that you are confused about your path. What then does the path mean to you?”

“Well…” Kikyou floundered, feeling foolish and uncouth, and trying to remind herself that this was not really Tsubaki. “As time moves along, we learn from the things that came before, and try to prepare for the things that come after.”

“Are you successful?” Tsubaki asked her.

“Sometimes.”

“To conclude then that you must be better able to endure what qualifies as after.”

“Yes, usually.”

Their surroundings shifted again. They were no longer in a room at all, but standing in a green field. The sky looked like early morning. Kikyou did not need to think about it this time; she recognized every blade of grass. She took a sharp breath and watched as, what looked like Inuyasha’s foot, dug its heel into what looked like her hand, or was her hand, a long time ago.

“Demon blood is good enough for you,” he sneered in a harsh voice, crushing the precious shell in his fist.

“Traitor!” she heard herself screaming. “Traitor!”

Kikyou watched her old self bleeding on the grass.

“Stop this!” she hissed.

Tsubaki stood by her. “This came after?”

“Yes!” Kikyou shut her eyes against the sting of unshed tears.

“But before now?”

“Yes! Now take me away!”

“Why?”

“Why what?” Kikyou cried. “Take me away!”

The other Kikyou was gone, leaving only the blood.

They were indoors again. The room was warm, and smelled of burning wood and dirt. She heard the sound of woman humming softly. Nearby she saw a woman and a little girl sitting on a straw mat. The woman was brushing the little girl’s hair.

Kikyou took in a relieved, shuddering breath, and blinked away tears.

“This was before,” Tsubaki said.

“Before many things,” Kikyou replied, looking at her mother’s face. “Early in my life.”

“Early?” Tsubaki’s rosebud lips mouthed the word as though she had never heard it.

“Near the beginning of my life.”

“Beginning?”

“Yes, when I was born.”

“To understand that if there’s a beginning, there must be an end.”

“Yes, to die.”

“To terminate your linear existence.”

“Yes.”

Tsubaki pointed to the mother and child. “This came early. Then, does it prepare you for things that come after?”

“In some ways. In some ways, all the things that come before prepare us for what comes after.”

“And what comes after, will become what happened before?”

“And prepare us for other things, yes.”

“Then, why?”

“Why what?”

The fire-lit room was gone.

“Die Inuyasha!” her own voice screeched with hatred, from somewhere behind her. Before she even had time to turn, she heard the sickening sound of tearing flesh. She heard Inuyasha give a low cry. She looked up and saw him, staring across the clearing in dismay.

“Kikyou…” he whispered.

Then he faltered and faded. The arrow kept him against the tree, but the cursed jewel fell from his limp hand.

This was Inuyasha. The other one, she now knew, was a fake, a decoy, but this one was real. This one had loved her. He was the only one who ever truly loved her.

“Why do you keep bringing me here?” Kikyou demanded, her voice thick.

“To know that you bring us here, Wanderer. You are the Wanderer, for through time, through life and death, and across the earth, you have wandered.”

Tsubaki’s face was composed and not marred by any of the real Tsubaki’s haughty contempt. Kikyou still found the spectacle disturbing.

“There is no point to this,” she cried. “Take me away!”

“To be unable to give you what you will not give to yourself,” Tsubaki replied. “Why?”

“Why what?” Kikyou screamed at her.

Tsubaki turned back to Inuyasha.

“You exist here,” she declared.

Kikyou sank to the ground at Inuyasha’s feet.

“I do not wish to be here,” she moaned.

“Then why are you here?”

Kikyou could not answer. She crossed her arms tight across her knees and closed her eyes. Tsubaki, her dark priestess robes rustling in the warm wind, stood over her.

“This went before,” the fake priestess persisted. “Your existence is linear. So why are you here?”

Kikyou drew a shuddering breath and wiped her face with her sleeves. She gasped for air as the sobs stormed through her like a typhoon.

“I could never figure out,”  she cried in a broken voice, “a way to live with what came after.”

“So you choose to exist here.”

Her face in her knees, Kikyou could only nod.

“To know that you are wrong on many counts.”

Kikyou looked up at her.

“To know that his existence is not terminated, not in your time, and neither is yours.”

Tsubaki was gone and for a moment Kikyou was looking at Kaede, the old woman, who smiled at her, a soft, gentle expression. Kaede shifted into Kagome, who pointed at her own chest.

“The Beloved loves you.”

Kagome’s eyes melted into Kohaku’s.

“The Golden-hearted loves you.”

“The Bearer loves you,” Rin’s voice was girlish and her beautiful face tender and generous.

Kikyou smiled through her tears, almost laughing.

“The Bearer, as you say, loves everybody.”

She looked down again and saw she was looking at red hakama and bare, hard feet. The wind stirred Inuyasha’s white hair.

“The Guardian loves you. To know that he thinks of you every day.”

Kikyou could not bring herself to look him in the face. When she at last raised her eyes again, Tsubaki had returned.

“All of these love you, though they know all of this,” she waved her a porcelain hand at the surroundings. “They love you as you are.”

More tears rolled down Kikyou’s cheek, off her chin, and landed on her knees, but she knew she would not sob. That seemed to be gone from her.

“To inquire if you are ready to return?”

Kikyou took a deep breath, and released it slowly.

“Yes,” she answered, standing and straightening her robes. She sniffed and rubbed her swollen eyes.

“You are ready to leave this place.”

Kikyou did not look around. “Yes. I am ready.”

***

“What do you mean, the path?”

“In order for one of you to be there, I have to be here,” Midoriko explained.

“But…Sesshoumaru and I were gone at the same time.”

“Not exactly.”

Kagome sighed. “Whatever.”

“That is for the best, Kagome-sama,” the miko said to her, smiling.

Sesshoumaru had said nothing else, but he did not leave the room. Kagome guessed that he was waiting to see for himself if Kikyou would rematerialize from nothing.

“Does that mean you will be gone again as soon as Kikyou comes back? In that very instant?”

“That is correct.”

“Then tell me, before you go, what am I to do? What are we to do?”

Midoriko only looked at her steadily.

“Please, Midoriko-sama, I need to know. Should I stay here? Should I go and look for my friends?”

Midoriko turned her gaze back to the fire and was quiet for some time.

“I cannot give you detailed instructions, Beloved,” she said at last. “It is not that easy.”

“Why not?” Kagome demanded in exasperation.

“There are rules,” Midoriko answered.

“Rules?” Kagome repeated. “Are you kidding me?”

“Not at all. I cannot simply take your hand and guide your every step.”

Kagome stared at her, then threw her arms in the air and sat down again with a heavy sigh.

“There are some things, however, that I think you should know.”

“Oh?” Kagome muttered, not feeling very gracious. “Like what?”

“Your death would be the ruin of us all,” Midoriko said, giving Sesshoumaru a sidelong glance. “As he knows perfectly well. That is why he surrendered his birthright for you.”

“What?” Kagome exclaimed.

“There is no need for this,” Sesshoumaru growled.

Kagome, however, was not paying attention to him.

“Birthright?” she murmured, then she gasped and stared at the priestess in disbelief. “Do you mean Tenseiga?”

“That very dear object is gone from your world now, and is irretrievable. Death took it, in exchange for letting you come again to the world of living.”

Kagome was astounded, but her immediate thought was that Sesshoumaru did not even like the damn sword.

“His sacrifice was greater than you think.”

Kagome flinched. She did not like to contemplate how much of her mind Midoriko could read.

“The sword was passed down from his father, as you know.”

“Right,” Kagome whispered.

“Stop this,” she vaguely heard Sesshoumaru’s grim voice, from somewhere in the room.

“You also know that it was fashioned by the smith Totosai-san, at Ichiro-sama’s request, but in the end, what it was, was a piece of Sesshoumaru-sama’s mother.”

Kagome closed her eyes. Somehow, from some memory that did not belong to her, the image of the white-haired girl in the forest returned again.

“Chiyoko,” she whispered.

“The same. Chiyoko-kun separated herself from her beloved son centuries ago, something she was required to do to continue her task. That sword, a piece of herself that she left with her husband, was her only link to him. One of Chiyoko-kun’s responsibilities, besides the birth of the General and many other tasks, is to guard the gates of the underworld.”

“That is why the sword could resurrect,” Kagome murmured to herself.

She got to her feet, her eyes seeking Sesshoumaru on their own for a brief second, and she could not help but notice that he carried only one sword.

“How could you do that?” she turned on Midoriko. “How could you make him do that?”

“Do not talk foolish,” the woman answered in a stern voice. “As if I or anyone else could make him do anything.”

“Who is talking foolish?” Kagome retorted. “If you told him that the Universe would come to an end if he didn’t, then you made him!”

Midoriko rose.

“Kagome-sama,” she said patiently, “you know that if I said that, it was because it was the truth.”

Kagome stared at her helplessly.

“Many have paid a dear price for you, for your success,” Midoriko continued. “If Sesshoumaru-sama is beginning to appreciate the reality of the situation, than you should as well.”

“Excellent,” Midoriko said, suddenly cheerful again. “It is time. We will speak soon.”

She was gone and sure enough, in the blink of an eye, Kikyou was standing in her place. Instinctively, Kagome rose and went to her, taking her hands.

“Are you alright?”

The other miko nodded, though Kagome thought her face was pale.

“What happened?”

But Kikyou only shook her head, her eyes distant and vague. Kagome looked around and saw that Sesshoumaru had left the room unnoticed. Feeling heavy and numb, she took slow steps across the room to the bench and sat down.

“And what of you?” Kikyou asked her. “Are you well?”

“I…I don’t know.”

She related to Kikyou what she had seen in “the other place.”

“So, you think the monsters that are causing havoc to the north are a result of breeding human women with the spider demons?”

Kagome swallowed hard and nodded.

“That is something despicable enough to entertain Naraku’s predilections,” Kikyou murmured, sitting down next to her.

“It was…horrible,” Kagome shuddered.

“I am sorry that you had to see it.”

Kikyou covered her hand with her own.

“Kikyou, I want you to tell me more about that day.”

“What day?” Kikyou asked.

There was a slight alarm in her voice, but Kagome didn’t notice.

“When I died, in the baths.”

“Oh. I see.” Kikyou sighed. “I suppose that is only proper.”

She recounted how she and Kohaku had been accosted in the gardens.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Kagome interrupted. “Why were you out there?”

“It seems like so long ago,” Kikyou answered. “But I remember that I wanted to speak to him about his habit of avoiding the house. It was in my thoughts that he was too solitary; that it was not good for him.”

“Oh. What did he say?”

“We were attacked before we got too far into it. A man said that I should be killed because I was priestess. They were about to do it, but…they underestimated Kohaku.”

Kagome was silent, but her lips pressed together into a thin, white line.

“He killed all of them.”

Kagome winced but said nothing.

“That is when I found out what they were after. I do not know why I have not yet told you.”

“Told me what?”

Kikyou went to a box in a corner and pried open the lid. She rummaged through it for a minute or two, finally bringing out a crumpled ball of paper. She flattened and straightened it as much as possible, then handed it to Kagome.

The paper was badly torn and wrinkled, and dark blood stains were scattered across the surface, but it was still readable. In that moment, Inuyasha, newly reunited with Sango and Miroku, first saw Ayame; Tamotsu met Shinme in the Tenryu valley; Shippou and Kagura were speaking with Taroumaru, and Kouga stood in the woods, with Kagome’s mother and friends, listening to Hachi tell him that Kaede was dead. Kagome knew none of this as she read the Warrant, the last of the Dissidents to do so.

“These descriptions aren’t very flattering, are they?” she said, after reading it several times.

“You know, of course, who wrote it.”

“Well, yeah. Every person Naraku despises is here.” She rolled her eyes. “You’d think he wouldn’t want to be so obvious.”

“As soon as I read that, I ran into the house. I know Kohaku was with me, but I do not actually recall the trip to the baths. The next thing I remember, I was…”

Listening to her voice, Kagome began to see the events play out as if she were there, and she understood that she was seeing these things as Kikyou remembered them. Once again, she found herself in awe of the link that was growing between them, and she wondered how far it would go, before the end.

“You were dead in my arms.”

They killed her Sesshoumaru. They think we’re the monsters now.“I’ve never heard you call him just ‘Sesshoumaru’.”

Kikyou was silent.

“What happened then?”

“Someone, I think Jaken, told me what Sesshoumaru-sama’s sword could do. I asked him about it, of course, but he said that it would not work.”

“Why?”

“He did not know. Then I prayed, and Midoriko appeared.”

“She gets around a lot,” Kagome commented. “For a dead person.”

“She was distraught. She said, ‘this cannot be. Everything has been for nothing.’”

Kagome’s hands fidgeted in her lap.

“Chiyoko-sama came next. I supposed Midoriko summoned her. As soon as she saw you on the floor, she became quite upset as well. She said something strange. She said, ‘I’ve always been able to, before.’”

“Then Chiyoko did or said something, and Death appeared.”

Kagome heard the memory of Jaken’s small voice. Death! Death has come!

A strangeness to Kikyou’s voice made Kagome look up. The young woman’s face was pale, and touched with dread and fright.

“You’ve seen Death before, right?”

Kikyou nodded and wet her chapped lips.

“In the end, Death agreed to allow you to come back to us, if Sesshoumaru would give her the sword. This seemed to deeply effect his mother. She became angry.”

You don’t know what you’re asking!

“I…I tried to convince him. Then I said that if he was willing to let you die, then he was condemning us all, and that I’d rather die at his hands anyway than Naraku’s.”

Kagome did not notice her breath quicken, as she saw Kikyou in her mind’s eye, kneeling before Sesshoumaru’s feet and pushing hear wealth of black hair away from her slender, white neck.

Go ahead. Get it over with.

A terrible voice shook the halls of Kikyou’s memory, and Kagome knew she was recalling the voice of Death. So much for your prophecies. Behold! The end of the Commander and the Wanderer in the same day!

My son would never do that!

Then she heard Jaken’s voice again. My lord. Don’t.

“I guess I cannot say why I did that, and I do not know what happened next. Something happened to Sesshoumaru, however. I saw a look in his face…”

Kagome saw it too, and had no better understanding of it.

“He tossed the sword to Death.”

A wise decision, General.

“His mother wept. She seemed resentful when Midoriko asked her to retrieve you.”

Kagome remembered gazing at the green banks of a gentle stream and then seeing the tall, white-haired woman looking down at her, her face marked with grief.

Don’t waste it!

“So now there is no Tenseiga.”

“And I get the feeling,” Kikyou said, “that the like of it cannot be made again.”

“Oh man,” Kagome lowered her head into her hands. “I feel terrible.”

“Why? It cannot be put at your feet. There is nothing that you could have done.”

“Except not be here.”

“This again?” Kikyou sighed. “I thought we settled this.”

“I settled it with Sesshoumaru, I guess,” Kagome answered. “But I’m still full of doubt.”

She sat up again, running her fingers through her hair.

“I just don’t know, Kikyou.”

“What is causing you anxiety?” Kikyou asked her. “Inuyasha?”

“No,” Kagome shook her head. “I miss him, of course, I don’t mind telling you. But he can take care of himself. No, it’s my mother, my family, that I can’t stop thinking about.”

“Based on all you have told me, and that I heard you tell Tamotsu, they are safe in ‘your era’, right?”

“Yes, but they haven’t seen me in six months! Can you imagine how upset they must be? My poor mother, she must believe by now that something dreadful has happened. Every day that I stay here, it’s like I’m knowingly hurting her.”

***

How did it come to this?

Not for the first time, Sesshoumaru re-traced his steps, going back before the Rains, before his last encounter with Naraku in a ravine, on the other side of the lost summer and beyond a universe of outrageous trials and insults. His youth, his wandering, his brother, all his cold hatred and icy rage. His revival of Rin, his pursuit of Tessaiga, his first encounter with Naraku.

The first time he saw Kagome.

The first time he saw Kohaku.

Meeting Jaken.

Finding Kagome by the river.

The possession of Rin.

The loss of Tenseiga, the revelation…

Where? Where did I go wrong?

Once again he stood on the northern parapet of the Hyouden, and once again his only company was the ghost of the wolf demoness. Her presence had lost all its recrimination. Now he sensed only pity from her. It disgusted him, but he did not dare attempt to drive her away for fear of making himself ridiculous, chasing a phantom that maybe only existed in his mind.

At night he heard her voice drifting through the halls.

The proud do not endure, the simple ones are happy
Ladada, ladada

At last the mighty fall and the Spring is so happy
Ladada, ladada

The last note always lingered, fading into a distant wail, and he always wished he was killing spider demons and that Tamotsu was the one to stay behind.

If he was going to suffer through all this absurdity, that woman could damn well suffer with him. After their “visions”, he kept Kagome with him for hours every day. He questioned her about her past and her family, often repeating questions he had asked her already, partly to annoy her, partly to test her truthfulness. He made her repeat, many times, everything that was said during her encounter with the “Outsiders”, as most people in the house had come to refer to them. She question him as well, of course, but most of the time he answered only with silence.

Then the day came when she walked into the room without being called. He looked up, surprised, but she did not sit in her customary spot on a mat across the low table from himself. She sat down next to him and opened the window a few inches.

“The weather’s not bad,” she said. “For January.”

“What do you think you are doing?”

“I’m keeping you company. That is what you want, isn’t it?” she looked him in the eye.

“I want only information.”

“Well, I’ve told you all the information I carry in my head,” she shrugged. “Several times over, in fact. And I don’t much feel like answering questions today, anyhow.”

He gave her a dangerous look, but she did not seem to notice. Movement drew his eye and he saw that she was toying with a long, black feather, turning it about in the sunlight to cast it in green and blue sheens.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” she said, smiling. “I found it in the garden. I think it would hold ink, if you wanted to use it for anything. I noticed that you have paper with writing on it on the table in the corner. What do you write about, anyway?”

Now he really did glare at her, but she was unimpressed.

“Right,” she said, looking back out the window. “So…I’m here to keep you company.”

The proud do not endure, the simple ones are happy
Ladada, ladada

Sesshoumaru set his teeth.

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Leave. Now.”

She stared at him, then shrugged in the most heartless manner imaginable and walked out of the room. After she was gone he saw that she had left the feather on the floor in front of his knee. He picked it up gingerly with his claws. It hissed and smoked as it disintegrated into nothing.

***

The next morning, he decided to call her at the first sign of daybreak, sure that she would be asleep. While it did take her longer to appear, she entered the room with bright eyes and a smile and, in her most audacious display to date, carrying a tea tray.

“Good morning, my lord,” she said cheerfully.

While Sesshoumaru contemplated in silence whether or not she was mocking him with “my lord”, she prepared and served the tea.

“Ah!” she let out a delighted sigh after sipping her drink. “There’s nothing like a hot cup of tea on a winter morning.”

Sesshoumaru’s eyes did not leave her, but he said nothing.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, glancing at his cup. “Don’t you want it? It’s not too hot for you, is it?”

Sesshoumaru slammed his fist on the table. It was sudden, and shockingly loud in the large, empty room. The tea cup flinched and the liquid jittered, but did not spill. The second the sound vibrated on his ear drums, he was scalded by a sense of shameful foolishness.

“You dare to mock me, in my own house?”

Kagome put the cup on the table with unruffled calm, but when she lifted her eyes to him he could see that they were as hard as agates.

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that? Just what the hell is your problem anyway?”

“You are here to answer my questions.”

“Then ask one, for heaven’s sake!” she picked up the cup again. “But I wasn’t trying to mock you, so just drink the damn tea.”

“I do not consume human food.”

She sighed. “Fine. Whatever makes you happy.”

“Do women from your era always speak with such language?”

“I’m not a princess, Sesshoumaru,” she answered. “Besides, I thought we already established that I was an ill-bred tramp.”

“I do not recall having ever used the word ‘tramp’.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“So, you’re saying then that I’m not a tramp?”

He thought about it.

“To the best of my knowledge,” he answered with decided seriousness, “no, you are not.”

She smiled. “Why, thank you, Sesshoumaru-sama. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

***

“What is it between you and that demon?”

Kagome, sitting between Jaken and Kohaku, looked up from her supper. Kikyou sat across the low table, and Rin sat beside her. The room was dim and gloomy in the fitful, orange light of the kitchen fire.

“What?”

“Sesshoumaru-sama,” Kikyou said. “He often requests your company. To what purpose?”

Kagome snorted. “You’d have to ask him. Who can say why that guy does anything?”

“Don’t you disrespect Sesshoumaru-sama!” Jaken warned her.

She turned her head to him.

“Do you understand everything he does?”

Jaken started to answer, but his mouth hung open. Tapping a chopstick on his lips, he gazed in the distance, his large eyes vague and watery.

“I don’t understand anything he does!” he lamented.

“Just so,” Kagome said. “That’s all I’m saying.”

As they continued eating, conversation inevitably returned to the “Outsiders”, as the encounters had with them by Kagome, Kikyou, and Sesshoumaru, were by far the most interesting thing to discuss.

“So they don’t know your names?” Rin asked.

“That is how it appears,” Kikyou said. “They seem to have their own way of referring to us.”

“Like what?”

“Well, for one thing, they call you the Bearer.”

“Huh?” Rin’s expression was puzzled.

“What does that mean?” Jaken asked. “Bearer of what?”

“Who can say?” Kikyou shrugged. “That is, besides the Outsiders.”

“It’s particularly strange in Rin’s case,” Kagome said. “She doesn’t have any possessions.”

“I suspect it may be more symbolic, or metaphorical, than that.”

“I only heard my own name, and yours,” Kagome said.

“I had the chance to hear several,” Kikyou said.

“In what way? In what context?”

Kikyou chewed her food slowly, her eyes distant, and was silent.

“I would rather not say,” she said after a time.

“But it might be important,” Kagome argued.

“No, not this. It was personal.”

Kagome opened her mouth to argue again, but thought better of it and let it drop.

“Who else did you hear of, then?”

“Kohaku, the Golden-Hearted.”

Kohaku choked on his rice.

“What?” he exclaimed, flushing.

Rin laughed. “I think that’s a wonderful title for you, Kohaku-kun!”

Kohaku stammered and stared wide-eyed, then began shoving his food in his mouth again, still blushing and avoiding Rin’s eye.

“And the Guardian, as well.”

Kagome turned from Kohaku back to Kikyou again.

“Who is that?” she asked.

“Inuyasha.”

No one said anything. Kagome put down her bowl, and it clanked on the table softly. Jaken and Kohaku continued eating, their eyes troubled.

Kagome crawled around the table to Rin’s side.

“Where did you get that coat, Rin? It’s very nice.”

“Coat?”

“Yeah, your haori.”

“Oh.”

The young woman looked down at the fabric and pressed the sleeve between her fingers. It was thick, with many layers quilted together in an intricate, painstaking stitch. The outer shell was a creamy golden color, with white anemones embroidered on it with a masterful skill.

“Sesshoumaru-sama gave it to me. I don’t know where it came from.”

“It was his mother’s,” Jaken piped in.

Kagome and Rin turned to him amazement.

“Really?” Rin asked, seeming delighted. She looked down at it again. “I had no idea.”

“You can tell from the anemones. They were her favorite. Anything you see in the Hyouden with that design, it used to belong to Sesshoumaru’s mother.”

“Did you know her, Jaken-sama?” Rin asked.

“Of course not, stupid! She died when Sesshoumaru-sama was born.”

“Then…how…?”

“ I have heard much of her, from people who did know her, like Tamotsu and Shinme-sama.”

“That’s right!” Kagome said. “Tamtosu told me he was related to Sesshoumaru’s mother.”

“Yes, though I don’t know how,” Jaken said.

He rose and picked up the remains of his meal, carrying the plate and cup to a wooden trough in the corner.

“I’ve had enough of all this blathering with a bunch of humans,” he complained.

He walked out of the room. He did not say where he was going, but no one cared enough to ask.

“Can I see this?” Kagome tugged on Rin’s sleeve.

“Of course!”
Rin put down her bowl and shrugged out of the loose garment. She handed it to Kagome who laid it across her knees, tracing the intricate design with a finger.

“It’s really soft.”

Rin smiled.

“What’s that?” Kagome asked suddenly.

“What’s what?”

“There’s something strange here,” she frowned. “Look.”

Kikyou edged closer to them and peered over Kagome’s shoulder. Kagome lifted the garment, turning it in the light.

“See that?”

There was a small but definite lump on the inside of the left breast.

“It looks as though someone has patched it here,” Kikyou murmured, pointing to a square of stitches.

With a short exclamation, Rin quite suddenly clasped her hands over her mouth.

“Oh, my goodness!”

“What?” Kagome looked up in alarm.

Rin pressed her hands to both her cheeks, her eyes wide.

“I can’t believe I forgot about it!”

“What is it?”

Rin took the coat back and turned it over. She tugged at the spot, tearing open the stitches.

“Be careful!” Kagome cried, dismayed that she was tearing such a beautiful garment.

“It’s alright,” Rin said.

She reached into the hole she’d made. When she pulled out her hand, it was clenched into a tight fist, and trembling.

“Kagome-chan,” she whispered, “you were holding this in your hand, that day.”

A deep thrill of fear ran through Kagome’ chest.

“It can’t be!” she exclaimed.

“What?” Kikyou demanded, exasperated.

“I don’t know what it is,” Rin said, “but it took all my strength to get it out of her hand. It was the hand…the arm…that…”

“Rin-chan,” Kagome whispered. “Open your hand. Show it to Kikyou.”

Rin held up her tiny fist and slowly opened the fingers. In the middle of her palm, like a pearl in an oyster, lay a large, luminous jewel. It was a deep, blood red.

“Well, we know that it is not the Shikon no Tama,” Kikyou said, peering at it. “We have half of that and this thing is whole. It does not feel like it, either.”

“No, it’s not the Sacred Jewel.” Kagome’s voice wavered. “It’s Kagura’s heart.”

Kikyou and Rin stared at her. Rin’s mouth hung open.

“You mean to say, that that demon’s heart has been here the whole time?” Kikyou demanded.

“So it seems,” Kagome answered.

“How did we not sense it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Sesshoumaru’s presence masked it.”

After some silence, Kikyou sighed, then smiled and shook her head.

“At least now I think we know what it is that Rin bears.”

“Me?” Rin looked up.

Kikyou nodded.

“But…I mean…is that right?”

“What do you mean?” Kikyou asked.

“Well, it’s Kagura, she’s tried to kill me, a couple of times. Do you think it’s OK that I hold this?”

“You’re not planning to try and destroy it, to get back at her?” Kagome asked.

“Of course not!”

“If it bothers you, I’ll take it,” Kagome held out her hand.

“No!” Kikyou snapped.

Kagome snatched her hand back and stared at her.

“You could purify it just by touching it, which may kill Kagura.”

“What? Are you sure? But, I brought it here!”

“I am not certain. Perhaps you were too weak from your confrontation with Naraku then. I think it would not pay to take chances. If she were here, I imagine that Kagura would agree.”

“OK then,” Kagome laughed. “Rin-chan, it’s yours. Keep it safe!”

Rin swallowed hard and nodded, her eyes still wide.

“Can you sew it up again?” Kikyou asked.

“Yes,” Rin whispered.

“Good. Return it to where it was, and let us not speak of it, for now. We should keep this information to ourselves.”

The other two women nodded, and said nothing.

***

“Sometimes I wish I could trade places with you,” she said to him one morning.

They were sitting in the usual room, by the usual window. The weather was mild enough to have the window open and Sesshoumaru gazed out of it towards the northern mountains. She was sitting behind him, doing something to his hair.

He had only allowed such an affront to his dignity because they were alone, because his hair was cumbersome to handle himself with one arm, and because he told himself that this was something a normal servant would do.

Not to mention she had agreed to stop chattering in exchange for the privilege.

“You said you would not talk.”

“Yes, well, sometimes I say things.”

He started to turn his head.

“No, don’t! You’ll mess me up.”

Seething, he returned to same position, ticking off the reasons he had for not killing her.

“Why do you envy me?” he asked, to cover his annoyance.

“You never seem to be cold.”

“That would be impossible.”

“Impossible?”

“Or nearly so. Indeed, I feel it is too warm.”

Kagome leaned forward and turned her head to peer at him.

“Really? You’re too warm right now? I’m freezing.”

He started to make an offer to close the window, but checked his tongue, remembering that he wanted it open.

“We are very different.”

You seem the same to us.

Without warning, a small hand closed around his forehead. At first it was as cool as silk, but it quickly warmed. He shot her a hard glance.

“Sorry!” she squeaked, and turned her attention back to his hair. “I was just curious. You were right; you’re burning up. If you were anyone else, I’d swear you had a deadly fever.”

“I am not ill.”

“Right. Of course not. It’s surprising though.”

“Why is that?”

“Looking at you gives one the impression that your skin would be cold and hard, like marble, but it’s the opposite.”

She laughed. “I bet you liked to play in the snow when you were little!”

“Play?” he mouthed the word incredulously.

“Well, yeah, when you were a child. Surely, Sesshoumaru-sama was not always the stern and serious man who sits before me.”

“Now I know you are mocking me.”

She sighed. “This again? Why do we have to have this argument every day?”

She slipped away and around to the other side of the table.

“Ah! The kettle is still warm.”

“What is this?” he demanded, holding the small end of what looked like a long, white rope.

“Uh…I braided it.”

“To what end?”

“Men who wear their hair long often braid it. It’s stylish and dignified.”

“According to whom?”

She began pouring the hot water over her tea.

“I don’t know…people.”

“Human people?”

“I’ve seen male demons with braided hair.”

“Name one.”

“The elder of the Thunder Brothers, for one.”

He stared at her.

“You are referring to those vermin who were killed by Inuyasha?”

Kagome sighed and put down her a cup a little too hard.

“Wearing the braid won’t cause you to be defeated by Inuyasha,” she said from behind clenched teeth.

He narrowed his eyes and began to pull the tie.

“You know, if you take it out, I won’t be able to sleep tonight until I do it again.”

His yellow eyes darkened and became narrow and dangerous. Then in a slow, deliberate movement he cut the tie and pulled his fingers through the whole mess. She started to move toward him, but he fixed her with a cold gaze.

“Try it.”

Her eyes widened and she sat back down.

“Fine,” she said. “Be that way, if you don’t feel guilty about wasting most of my morning.”

“I find that I can bear that thought with some fortitude.”

She rolled her eyes and put her chin in one hand.

The room fell silent. Sounds from the outside world, of birds that still braved the winter, seemed loud and yet remote. Sesshoumaru wondered where the wolf demoness went when she wasn’t haunting him. He looked out the window at the valley with its shallow river and wondered where Tamotsu was.

“So, what now?” she broke the silence.

He turned out of his reverie and looked at her, but said nothing.

“Do you want me to go?”

At first he thought that she meant “away for good”, and for one terrifying second, before he realized she meant merely that morning, he did not know what the hell his answer would be.

“Do whatever you wish,” he shrugged, and returned his attention to the distant hills.

Kagome, her face still her in hands, turned her head in that direction as well.

“It’s not in my nature to sit quietly,” she said, “not when there’s someone I want to talk to.”

Sesshoumaru did not respond, and made sure not to look at her.

“Would you like to hear about space exploration?” she suggested brightly.

***

Kikyou was worried. The amount of time that Kagome was spending closeted away with Sesshoumaru was cause for growing concern, and she was not alone in that opinion.

Jaken was at first dismayed, then concerned, then irritated. When Kagome finished her breakfast and took a tea tray with her from the room, he knew where she was going and he glared at her back, but she never noticed.

“Why don’t you do something?” he demanded of Kikyou one day.

“What do you mean, Jaken-sama?”

“You know,” he waved his hand to indicate the upstairs of the house. “About that.”

“You mean Kagome and Sesshoumaru-sama. I cannot imagine what you expect I may do.”

“What about all that training you two were doing? Couldn’t you take her outside to do that?”

“There is nothing left I can teach her.”

“Well make something up!”

She smiled at him and offered a cup of tea, which he took.

“Why are you so worried?” she asked him.

“Aren’t you?” he eyed her. “I can tell you are.”

“Yes, but I know my reasons.”

He looked at her for a long moment, but sipped his tea and remained silent.

“Where the devil is that Tamotsu?” he muttered.

“That is a good question. I have not seen him for days and I will admit that I am concerned.”

“Ah,” Jaken waved it off. “He can take care of himself, but it’s likely he’s up to no good!”

“What about the kids?” he asked her.

“Rin-san is in the gardens,” Kikyou said, “and Kohaku-san has gone hunting for food with Kirara.”

“Again? How much food do you people need? And I thought Rin was not allowed to go off alone.”

“I gave her clear instructions to remain close to the house,” Kikyou explained. “She is just outside that door; I would hear if anything went awry.”

“Hmph,” Jaken continued drinking his tea.
“She is the sort who does not deal with confinement well,” Kikyou went on. “She seems to weaken and pale if it goes on for too long.”

“I’ve noticed that myself,” he shook his head. “She is a wild thing. She’ll never be a useful woman, or fit to be any man’s wife.”

“You may be right, my lord,” Kikyou murmured.

Later that morning Jaken had wandered off on business of his own and Kikyou found herself alone. For lack of anything else to do, she took to walking up and down the empty halls of the Hyouden, peering in the dusty rooms and here and there picking up some article that needed cleaning or mending.

As if I’ve become mistress of this strange house.

She came across the room where they used to sleep, before it got so cold. It was the same room where Kagome slept for months, recovering from the trauma of the Plateau. Kikyou closed the door behind her and looked around at the empty room, picturing the afternoons that Kagome spent with Tamotsu and Rin, teaching them the strange songs from her own era.

Kikyou was honest enough with herself to admit that she missed Tamotsu, but she was glad he was gone to be missed.

She was about to leave when she noticed something leaning against the far wall, draped in a large, shabby blanket. Deciding not to resist the curiosity, she went to it and pulled the drape away.

It was a mirror. Such a large one must have been quite expensive to acquire. It was big enough to reflect almost the entire room.

Kikyou’s sense of wonder subsided, before she realized what was wrong.

The mirror was not reflecting the room.

With a start, she turned her head from the room to the mirror, to the room again. There could be no mistaking it. She pulled the top of the mirror away from the wall and looked behind it. Everything about it seemed ordinary, except that looking into it was more like looking through a window. The other room was nothing like the one she was in now. Looking at it, it seemed vaguely familiar.

Putting down the things she had collected, Kikyou went quickly from the room and down the hall, searching with her ears for Kagome’s voice.

That girl is never quiet for long.

“No, no,” she heard Kagome say. “A ship that goes into space is nothing like a ship that goes on the ocean.”

Kikyou followed the sound into another room. Both Kagome and Sesshoumaru were sitting on the floor, with a low table between them, near an open window, and they both turned to her.

“Imouto,” she said breathlessly. “I need you for a moment.”

Kikyou stopped short halfway across the floor and glanced at Sesshoumaru.

“I apologize,” she bowed, “please excuse me for being rude in my haste.”

Kagome laughed. “Kikyou, it’s alright. It’s only Sesshoumaru.”

Sesshoumaru shot her a sour look. Kagome pretended not to notice.

“What’s the matter?”

“There is something strange, in your old room,” Kikyou answered. “I want you to look at it.”

“Ah,” Kagome looked from her to Sesshoumaru, who remained impassive and indifferent.

“OK!” she said. “After you.”

They had entered the room before Kikyou noticed that Sesshoumaru was close behind them.

“Over here,” she said, indicating the mirror.

“Oh yeah,” Kagome said. “I always wondered why—

Kikyou was looking at her when the color drained from Kagome’s face. She tried to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, her breath quickened and her eyes filled with tears.

“What is it?” Sesshoumaru demanded. “Do you know it?”

Kagome dropped to her knees. She put her face in her hands and her body rocked back and forth. Then, with a low cry, she put out her hands, flat on the mirror’s cold surface.

“Mother!” she cried. “Can you hear me?”

Sobbing, she slapped her palms against the surface.

“Mother!”

“Stop!” Kikyou snapped, grabbing her arms. “You could break it!”

Kagome clung to her, weeping.

“Imouto,” Kikyou whispered, patting her head. “Is that your home?”

Kagome nodded.

Kikyou held the girl, and stared at the dim room on the other side of time. She looked up at Sesshoumaru and saw that he was looking not at the mirror, but at Kagome, his expression unreadable.

“Look!” she cried, lifted Kagome’s head. “Is that your mother?”

Kagome looked up sharply, but her eyes narrowed. She edged closer, unconsciously putting her hands on the mirror again.

“I don’t think so,” she murmured.

A woman had come into the other room. She had sharp features and wavy, dark hair, that she wore long. Her clothes were strange; they reminded Kikyou of her first dream of Midoriko, when the Rains had started, when she had been taken to that other place.

“I don’t know who that is!” Kagome cried.

The woman came right to the mirror, but did not look at it. Instead, she was looking down, searching for something.

“My…my mother’s mirror is on top of a dressing table,” Kagome said to no one in particular.

The woman’s face was visible, and Kikyou felt a shock of recognition, but could not put a name to it. Suddenly, the woman covered her eye as if it hurt her. Then she did look into the mirror, but still gave no indication that she saw anything unusual.

“She can’t see us,” Kagome whispered. “Who is she? Why is she in my mother’s room?”

“What is she doing?” Kikyou asked.

The woman was apparently examining her own eyes. They were a rusty brown color, but the right one was red and watery with irritation. Kikyou watched in fascination as she deliberately put her finger on the eye itself.

“What?” she almost laughed. “What is going on?”

Something happened. The woman pulled something away, rubbed her eye again, and when she looked back at the mirror, the left eye was still a muted brown but the right eye was as scarlet as a new plum.

The onlookers in the Hyouden were speechless.

The woman did something similar to the other eye and then they both matched again, only scarlet instead of brown. She pulled her hair away from her face and Kikyou was shocked to see an ear that was unmistakably pointed.

“She is a demon!”

“It’s Kagura!” Kagome cried. “Holy hell, it’s Kagura!”

Kikyou stared at the demon in the other place.

“Are you sure?” she asked, though she already knew the answer.

“That’s her alright,” Kagome said. “Though, how she got through the well I just can’t imagine!”

Kagura, meanwhile, was staring at the mirror, not seeing them, but not looking at herself anymore either. Suddenly she began searching the dresser again. She picked up something small and shiny, with a red tip. Lifting her hand, Kagura made a few marks, like lines of red paint, on the surface of the glass. Then she stopped and wiped the marks away, moved to the other side of the mirror, and started again. With painstaking care, she made each slow mark.

“She is writing something, she must be writing it backwards, from her own view,” Kikyou pointed at the glass.

The three of them watched the slow and methodical progress of Kagura’s work. At last, she stopped, stared at the message for a long time, swallowed hard and backed away, hanging her head. The message on the mirror read:

The mirror went black, and Kikyou saw that she was looking at her own pale and drawn face. The room reflected was the room around her, empty except for Kagome and Sesshoumaru.

Kagome stayed on the floor, still looking at the mirror, and for a long time would not say anything.

“I don’t understand any of this,” she murmured at last. “How did Kagura get through the well? Why would she go? Why did she say ‘Souta is safe’, and not my mother? What is she trying to tell us about Kanna and Rin? For that matter, does she even know she is talking to us? And what does she mean by ‘We’?”

Kikyou could not think of anything to say. To her surprise, it was Sesshoumaru who spoke.

“It is indeed a mystery. However, I could guess at the answer to two of your questions.”

Kagome looked up at him.

“You said the well was a path to your era, which is in the same world as mine, but at least several centuries in the future.”

Kagome nodded.

“Kagura is a demon. If you truly separated her from Naraku, she would be long-lived. She did not, I believe, go through the well.”

It took a few moments for the implication to even reach Kikyou. Kagome’s eyes widened.

“As for her own state of mind, or knowledge, she must know that she is communicating to us, and to you in particular. Not only does she have knowledge of past events,  and thus likely knows that you are here at this time and about the phenomenon of the mirror, but also you are the only one to need a communication about your younger sibling.”

Kagome’s hand covered her mouth..

“As for your other questions, it may be a considerable time before we know, if we live to ever find out.”

“Well, wait a minute,” Kikyou stood up. “If Kagura is there, in the future, writing to us because she lived to do so, then surely that means we will defeat Naraku. If he wins against us, it is inconceivable that he would let her live.”

“Though unlikely, Kagura may well be on the run,” Sesshoumaru responded. “And even if she is not, even if Naraku is dead in that future, even if all that you hope for comes to pass,” he looked Kikyou full in the face, “it does not then mean that anyone else will survive.”

“I suppose that is true,” Kikyou looked away.

“Besides,” Kagome added, wiping her face, “Kagura made a point of telling us that the future is unwritten.”

“But—

“Just because that Kagura lived a certain path, doesn’t mean that that path is certain for us. We may yet change it, changing, or even erasing, her existence.”

Kikyou knitted her brow. “But…”

“I know,” Kagome laughed. “Time travel is a tricky business, Nee-chan. Take it from me.”

Kikyou looked at her in surprise.

“What?” Kagome returned the look.

“It is nothing,” Kikyou shook her head. “We should eat. Would you like some tea, my lord?”

Sesshoumaru must have felt that his interest in the matter had ended, because he had left the room without them noticing.

“That one,” Kikyou muttered, “is going to be trouble for us.”

“No doubt,” Kagome agreed. “No doubt.”

“We must keep a watch on this mirror,” Kikyou said.

Kagome nodded again. “I’ll check it often. What do you think? What could cause the connection to happen?”

“After everything that has happened to me,” Kikyou answered, “I could not even venture a guess, but I am not surprised.”

Kikyou did not take her eyes off the mirror for some time, but she was not trying to figure out the mystery, nor was she thinking of the other place that Kagome called home. She was remembering Sesshoumaru, looking down at the crying Kagome, with his inscrutable expression.

***

The next morning, Sesshoumaru believed he knew precisely where he had gone wrong, after all. What was more, he knew just what to do about it.

In the time since Kagome’s death and subsequent resurrection, he had discovered by chance that he could sleep in peace again. He no longer beheld the swirling stardust of the infinite when he closed his eyes. He no longer plummeted into the freezing emptiness of the black cosmos when he tried to sleep. It occurred to him that this was a reward for his complicity.

How it filled him with a blind, shaking rage! Sesshoumaru of the West had had enough.

That was how Kagome found herself standing outside the Hyouden’s back door, in the wan light of a winter morning. Kikyou, Kohaku, and Kirara stood with her. They carried hastily packed bags of scant provisions.

“I think you’re making a mistake,” she tried to pursued him.

Sesshoumaru was not interested in talking. He did not budge an inch, planting his feet firmly in front of the house and giving her only a flinty gaze. Jaken and Rin stood near him, wringing their hands and worrying their lips.

Most of all, they were all surprised. Without warning, Sesshoumaru had roused them all just before dawn and let them know, in no uncertain terms, that he was being generous in allowing them to leave with their lives. Kagome could only stand there and argue, and splutter, and even threaten, but Kikyou had had the sense to gather some provisions and get Kohaku and Kirara safely out the door.

So it was that they all stood in the dirt of the dead garden, a good twelve feet between them and the implacable demon. Kagome gazed at him for some time in the silence, but Sesshoumaru’s expression did not change.

“Fine,” she said at last. “I don’t need you anyway.”

Even that did not elicit a response. Hoping it was for the last time, Kagome turned her back on him. Seeing it inspired a secret rage inside Sesshoumaru, but he swallowed it and remained immobile and incomprehensible. Kagome walked away, avoiding the eyes of her friends.

“Come on,” she said to them. “Everything will be fine.”

She stopped, and stood still again. Her eyes widened and her face paled.

“Kagome-sama,” Kohaku whispered. “What is it?”

“Do you see that?”

Kohaku and Kikyou looked at the path before them.

“Yes,” Kikyou said in a low voice. “I see it.”

“What is it?” Kohaku asked.

“A ghost,” Kagome answered.

Sesshoumaru heard the conversation of course, but he refused to listen to it, and he did not see what they saw. He only saw that she stopped and was still. Then Kagome turned her head and shot a look at him over her shoulder.

He knew this to be a sign that she was not leaving.

Now what? he asked himself.

He did not move.

“Sesshoumaru,” she said in a loud voice, “I cannot leave here, and I won’t leave here. Whether you believe me or not, it is for the good of everyone, including you.”

Rin and Jaken cast nervous glances between the tall demon and the slight girl. Sesshoumaru’s expression did not change.

“The matter is not one for debate, Miko,” he said in a flat tone.

She dropped her bag to the ground. She shook her head and spread her hands.

“I am sorry. I know that this is hard for you. It’s unfair. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t have to. I’m not exactly in love with you, either.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Leave now,” he commanded.

“No.”

A toxic star of green flame appeared at the tip of his right hand, but Kagome did not move. With a slight flick of his wrist, a line of poison fire snapped at her feet, like an angry snake.

Kikyou’s breathing quickened, her heart pounded, and she marveled once again at her mortal housing, even as her power grew and recoiled inside her. Less than fourteen feet away, Jaken could hear the two powers growing in the air, meeting and pushing against each other, one like a song echoing in a seashell, the other like the buzzing of the sun. He took a step back.

Sesshoumaru’s wrist flicked again. This time, the bright serpent leapt up and by instinct Kagome threw her hands into the air. The toxic rope hit her right wrist and wrapped around it. She grit her teeth as drops of dark blood splattered the dirt. With a sharp cry, Kikyou reached forward.

“Stay back!” Kagome yelled.

Kikyou froze, staring at her.

Blood ran down Kagome’s arm, but she took hold of the poison rope and pulled on it. It began to turn a rosy color, but only where it touched her.

“Well?” she challenged. “What next?”

“Do you imagine that you are winning?” he asked. “That I cannot kill you?”

“I don’t know,” she said, not taking her eyes from his. “Can you murder me, Sesshoumaru?”

Sesshoumaru’s placid façade fell away and the glare he gave her was raw and naked. He believed that he had never hated anyone so much.

“Kagome,” Kikyou said. “Stop this. We can just go.”

Kagome turned her head slightly.

“You saw her,” she said over her shoulder. “You saw what she meant. We can’t go.”

“To whom are you referring?” Sesshoumaru asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kagome answered.

She opened her hand, and the line of fire withdrew, only to reappear again at the tip of his fingers. He saw her push back her shoulders, take a deep breath, and clinch her fist, waiting for the next blow. A thought, unbidden, came to him, that she was facing him down with the same unbreakable nerve that she had used against Naraku more than half a year ago.

It has come to this, he thought. I have made this.

“I do my best but I’m made of mistakes.”

Damn it.

Near him, someone moved; it was Rin. She left his side and placed herself between him and Kagome.

He only glanced at her.

“Please, Sesshoumaru-sama, I beg you. For your own sake, don’t!”

“You forget yourself Rin,” he said. “I have never asked for your company or your counsel.”

Rin looked away, and drew her hands up to her chest.

“Oh,” she murmured.

Kagome looked at her, than back to Sesshoumaru, her eyes icy.

“Don’t pay any attention to him, Rin-chan,” she said. “He’s just mad at me, and taking it out on everybody.”

Sesshoumaru did not respond, not even with a glance.

“Just like Inuyasha,” she added with a spiteful hiss.

He shot her a look of pure poison then, but quickly tore his eyes away, as if bored.

“I will not repeat myself,” he said.

Kagome stayed where she was, and a silence descended on them. Rin turned her back on him and bowed her head.

She will leave, he thought, but that is my choice.

Kikyou spoke again, cracking the silence with a sudden, startling voice.

“No one said it would be easy.”

Sesshoumaru heard her, he felt the words brush against his chest and knew them for all the truth they carried, all the hope that waited for him. But that hope was on the other side of an insurmountable barrier, unrelenting, even to him. He looked across the dead garden  and into Kagome’s eyes for the first time that morning.

I do my best but I’m made of mistakes.

He raised his hand.

Take it away, I never had it anyway.

“What is that?” Kohaku’s voice was alarmed.

The six of them found themselves standing still as statues on that winter morning, their faces upturned to the sky. For a second, Sesshoumaru thought it was snowing, and he was mystified that he had not sensed it coming.

But the soft, feathery touch that kissed his face was not that of snowflakes. They stood in a shower of purple flower petals. The little pieces, as deep and vibrant as a stormy sunset at sea, came down from the cloudless sky and were already covering their toes and sandals.

Kagome stretched out her uninjured hand.

“Umm…Kikyou? Do you see flower petals…coming from the sky?”

“Yes.”

Kagome sighed. “Thank goodness.”

“What’s happening?” Kohaku demanded.

“I have no idea,” Kikyou said, her voice hushed in wonder. “They are irises.”

“Ayame,” Kagome whispered.

Sesshoumaru looked up at her sharply.

“Was that her name?”

Full of confusion and a vague fear, Kagome stared at him, uncomprehending.

“Ah…Ayame was a wolf demoness,” she stammered. “She was…I knew her, when she was alive. Did you?”

“No,” he answered, looking back at the numinous shower.

He sighed, and bowed his head.

“That’s it then,” he said. “I see.”

The others exchanged nervous, perplexed glances.

“I do my best, but I’m made of mistakes.”

Kagome’s eyes widened in shock.

“What?” she gasped.

As suddenly as it had appeared, the iris rain was over, though the petals were as deep as their ankles and covered all the land that they could see. Still turning over this phenomenon in her mind, and utterly mystified by the change in Sesshoumaru, Kagome’s thoughts were interrupted.

“Tamotsu-sama is returning,” Kikyou told them.

A second later, Kagome sensed him as well, and then he was there, standing beside Rin. His hair was windblown and his shabby clothing was covered in dark blood stains.

“What’s going on?” he demanded. “What’s with the flowers?”

“We…we’re not sure,” Kagome stammered.

“Why’s everybody standing around out here in the cold?”

No one answered.

“Are you feeling better?” he turned to Rin. “Are you really well enough to be out here?”

Rin’s mouth opened, but she seemed incapable of answering. She stared at him vacantly, her eyes drifting back to Sesshoumaru.

“What’s going on here?” Tamotsu demanded again.

“Ah!” he cried. “You’re wounded!”

He took Kagome’s right hand and studied it for a moment, then threw a venomous look over his shoulder at his cousin.

“I see,” he said.

Sesshoumaru did not respond.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Tamotsu told him. “There’s no time now.”

“What’s the matter?” Kohaku asked him.

“There is an army of Tsuchigumo headed this way,” he announced. “Not the rabble of vermin we’ve been fighting, but an organized army, captained by giant ogres, thousands of them. They are heading right for this door, and will be here by nightfall.”

[End of Chapter 28]

[Next chapter: The Caverns]

Author’s notes: Longest chapter EVER. Good gracious! Only two left to go for Book Two!